Torn Away
by Panda Bear Lover 317
Summary: Kevin Flynn's niece could never stay out of trouble long. One too many mistakes leads to her discovery of the Grid. There she meets two determined hacking programs that do what they can to help her to the Portal. But they're not the only ones fascinated by the new User. Clu isn't so keen on his new guest leaving too soon, and he'll take every measure to stop her from leaving.
1. Commencement

**This chapter isn't strictly necessary. It is recommended, but I would never drop backstory stuff on you guys without context. More Grid stuff next chapter. TL;DR at the bottom for you lazy folks that are only looking for Grid excitement. :)**

* * *

**Chapter 1 – Commencement**

There's a bounty on my head, and all I'm going to do is sit in a fetal position in a cramped corner and try not to cry. I take a few deep breaths to calm myself down, but it's doing very little to give me peace of mind.

My consciousness is plagued with images I can't get rid of: a man, black bodysuit, helmet, orange circuits. I can't see his face.

I hug my knees tighter to my chest. The Siren's words echo in my head.

"_He'll never stop, not unless he's dead. You can run. You can try. But he'll keep finding you. He has abilities that few programs have… and he's never failed to bring in his target."_

I squeeze my eyes shut and fight back the tears. The stress is making me want to bawl my eyes out, but it could be the most dangerous giveaway of what I am.

Programs don't cry.

"_Mourn, yes, but we're physically incapable of shedding tears."_ The Siren had said to me.

I keep reminding myself that as I attempt to regain my sanity. Emotions aren't rational, and I know that. But I have to try to hold it together for my own sake. Once I'm safe, in a private space, I can cry to my heart's content.

I sniffle and wipe my nose with my hand. I keep reassuring myself that things would get better from here.

I'm on a light rail heading someplace isolated - far from Tron city. I'm hidden away in a tiny little cubby from when I was smuggled on this train. Though my lower back is aching from my current position, I tell myself over and over that this'll be worth it.

I'll be safe.

This journey will take a while though, so I close my eyes. My panic attack is finally passing, and I feel my heart rate decreasing. I let my mind wander a bit.

But mostly, I think back to my earlier life, and how it led to my current predicament.

* * *

Los Angeles, California was obnoxiously loud and busy, but it was home. My brother, David, and I lived here our entire lives with our mother, Cristina, and our father, Nathaniel Flynn.

But of course, nothing is quite as simple and peaceful as that. My family lived in the shadow of my uncle, Kevin Flynn. He ran the fortune 500 company ENCOM, and was quite the public figure. I thought he was pretty cool. Everyone in my family loved him, except for my dad. He was the baby of the family and always felt that he had to compete with his older brother. Those feelings carried over into adulthood with him.

Yet after uncle Flynn's disappearance, he always seemed so sad - well, so was the rest of the world. But still, even with his brother gone, he'd reject attention from the media and everyone else about the disappearance. He refused to talk about it at all.

No doubt, my cousin Sam had the hardest time coming to terms with his disappearance. After all, it was his own father that vanished off the face of the earth, and they certainly had a better relationship than I had with my own parents.

The ENCOM CEO seemed to constantly lead a busy life - especially as a single father. He'd come home from his office at the end of the day to prepare dinner, watch TV with his son, tuck his son into bed, and then he'd leave again. It was the first time David and I got to hear a story about the Grid, and it ended up being the last time as well.

It wasn't until I was 16 when I found out that not only was the Grid real, but it turns out the real thing wasn't as welcoming as my uncle had made it out to be in his stories. It was completely by accident, of course. A terrible series of events happened at terrible times, and the critical chain of events that made up the catastrophe was the reason I ended up trapped in this utopia-gone-wrong.

* * *

**Freshman Year, 2001, Fall Semester**

I may have been the weird quiet kid growing up, but that didn't mean that I was incapable by any means. Unfortunately my life at home wasn't the healthiest and thus, I tended to be short and abrasive with people. That made it difficult to make friends. When I wasn't rude, I behaved awfully timid - not exactly the most attractive behavior in either case.

For a short period in my freshman year at high school, I was targeted as a victim by a bully. Considering us both as girls, it was surprisingly less oriented around words and more aggressive through physical means. Regrettably, I wasn't the best kid that I could have been.

I had passed a classmate in a hall and she stuck out her leg to trip me.

Jessica laughed, "Oops… _sorry_."

On my way down, I stuck out my hands to catch myself while sticking out my own leg to kick out at her.

I guess I had better reflexes than Jessica too, because she didn't land well on her way down. She ended up twisting her hand in a bad angle. It wasn't her dominant hand, unfortunately. And because I was responsible for tripping her back, she got mad and lunged at me.

My eyes widened as she punched me in the face. The inside of my face crackled from the impact. My ears rang and my eyes teared up on their own accord.

I doubled over and glared as I held my now-bleeding nose. Jessica then came again for another blow and I caught her fist that time.

That move was a lot harder in real life than I've seen in the movies.

I held her good wrist in a crushing grip as I took the opportunity to elbow her solar plexus with my other arm. It knocked the wind out of her. A whole crowd of students gathered around us by now and were egging us on, though they weren't rooting for anyone in particular. And of course, Jessica's friends were standing dumbstruck on the sidelines like the ditzy people they were.

Jessica grunted in pain and tried to punch my face again a few times. I let go of her hand and held up both of my forearms to protect my face, since I didn't want another blow to my nose that was still gushing blood. I scowled at my opponent, noticed that her arms were too high and saw an opening in her midsection.

I ducked under a punch and leapt forward. I delivered a wicked blow to her stomach. My extra momentum sent us both to the floor. We wrestled and rolled around until Jessica shouted at her followers for help.

Then I was outnumbered nine to one. A couple helped Jessica back onto her feet while the rest of them almost wrenched my arm out of its socket as they hauled me to my knees. Two girls held my arms while the rest of them either made sure Jessica was okay or they were beating the shit out of me.

Punching, kicking, slapping, scratching - it happened everywhere. Word quickly reached every student in the school about our fight, because David started pushing himself to the front of the crowd.

Just for a split second, he stood there, stunned as if he couldn't recognize his bruised, bloody sister getting beaten up by four girls while two held my arms and another two stood by Jessica.

Then Jessica stepped forward to carry on what we started and David was finally knocked out of his trance. He came up behind Jessica, roughly grabbed her shoulder to turn her around and punched her in the face.

I was beaten up so badly that my vision started to blur a little bit so I wasn't sure how hard David punched Jessica, but it was enough to send her sprawling on the floor.

That silenced everyone. No gasping. No sudden movement. Everything was frozen.

Jessica's friends let me crumple to the floor as they all rushed to her side where she moaned and groaned from the pain. Three of her friends screamed at David for what he did.

I didn't do anything. I stayed curled up in a ball on the floor, gasping for air and struggled to see better. Those girls really did a number on me, and landed a couple good blows on my gut. David patted my shoulder and told me that everything was fine.

He grabbed a travel pack of tissues from his pocket and helped me into a more comfortable position on the ground. He dabbed at my face and bloody nose with the soft kleenex in attempt to manage my bleeding.

It was astounding that no adults arrived to break up the fight before David came. My perception of time wavered, but it felt like a five minute fight.

By the time the dean arrived, my vision had started to come back, my nose bleed was easing up, and I was recovering relatively well from the fight. Jessica, on the other hand, was whining and whimpering and crying her eyes out. Her nose was bleeding too.

Although I wouldn't hold anything against her at the moment for displaying emotional weakness. Considering the hell I just went through, I felt like crying too.

Denying David's help, I managed to get to my feet on my own while Jessica's friends had to help her up.

"Wow! That was amazing!" I heard a girl shout as the bystanders dispersed. She had straight auburn hair that went all the way down to the small of her back. She was pale like me, and her face was dusted with freckles. She was very pretty. Speckles dusted very lightly over every inch of her skin and she had a bright smile that seemed to match her personality. "I'm Ginger, Jessica's cousin."

"Oh." Oh dear.

She leaned closer to me. "Just gonna say she had it coming," Ginger winked at me.

The shock from the nature of this interaction must have shown on my face, because Ginger's companion, a boy, laughed. "Ginger never lies. I'm Kristophen." Instead of extending a hand for me to shake, he gave me a cocky and infuriating smirk. We were already off to a rough start.

I didn't think we were going to get along at all. It took everything in me not to scowl in response. But not in front of Ginger; she was nice to me.

Without another word, I turned and limped towards the nurse's office.

"You've earned your stripes, Blondie! Anyone that can withstand a fight like that without crying has my respect."

Whatever. He was just like any other arrogant, egotistical bastard with toxic masculinity issues waving his dick around to see who's the fucking cockiest. I didn't care about him or that egotistical stuff. I cared about justice. I let her torment me for long enough, and I've seen her go after other people as well. That behavior was unacceptable. Kristophen's respect meant nothing. Since the school did nothing, I simply took matters into my own hands when I had the chance.

After the nurse did everything she could to patch up Jessica and me, we were whisked to the Dean's office along with random witnesses where we were all questioned separately about the incident that transpired. Like a crime investigation.

In the end, Jessica was suspended from school for the month for starting a fight, ganging up, and assaulting a younger student with no provocation. Jessica's friends were delivered the same punishment from the school. Each of their respective parents would also likely stack on another consequence of their own.

David didn't get in trouble for punching Jessica only because he was acting in the defense of the victim to save them from an immediate danger, as it was formally put. David was a model student, so it was his first transgression ever - all of the teachers liked him too.

I didn't technically start the fight and I was only acting in self-defense, so I wasn't punished. I was, however, given a stern recommendation to simply walk away next time.

Yeah, like hell I would.

I wouldn't have been able to walk away from Jessica that easy without getting stabbed in the back with a pencil or something.

As we waited in the office, Jessica locked eyes with me. She looked wary, afraid. Just like her victims would look upon her.

The thought of that left a sour taste in my mouth.

By the time I joined David and answered him for the billionth time that I was okay, both of our parents came into the office. My mother obnoxiously gasped when she saw my marred face. She cupped her hands under my chin, tilted my head every which way so she could thoroughly examine my bruises and scratches. I tried not to show that her sudden, jerking movements of my head really stung.

I gently moved her hand away and quietly asked her to stop. "I just went to the nurse's office and she put some medicine on my skin, so don't touch it! You could mess it up or re-open a cut or make my bruises worse."

My dad just stared at my face and injuries for a moment before turning and walking over to Jessica and her friends' parents. Mother sighed. "Oh no…" she mumbled.

David walked over to his friends and "chilled" with them while I stood by and watched my father yell at the parents for not disciplining their children earlier on. He said he was going to press charges and if this ever happened again, he'd file restraining orders against everyone. My father blamed them for their daughter's poor behavior and said it was their job to ensure this wouldn't happen again.

I was shocked that my dad's usual cold, calm demeanor held in public was completely gone and he was a steaming hot monster now. I almost felt bad for the parents… almost. In fact, the parents and their teens looked quite frightened of him.

When he was finally done, he and mother talked with the dean, counselor, and principal to clean up the situation. Then he took David and me home, made sure that both of us were okay before he and mother drove back to work.

David helped me upstairs to my room to nap, and gave me an ice pack to help the swelling.

I just did my homework for a while.

There was an awkward silence while we ate dinner and everyone made a point of not looking at each other, especially me. Then mother told me that she set up a doctor's appointment later tonight so they could take a look at my nose, scratches and bruises to make sure they would heal okay. She was certain it would be fine, but wanted a second opinion.

Then dad talked about taking me to the police station before my appointment so he could press charges. I wasn't sure if that was a good idea and told him that I was sure the girls were already getting a punishment from their parents.

Mother and David sat and watched me argue with dad. He leaned over the table at me. "You don't know what the parents are doing," He said quietly.

Mother touched his shoulder. "Honey, I think you're overreacting."

Dad ignored her and stood up. His face stone cold. "Paradis, let's go. We're pressing charges." I sighed in defeat. At this point, there was no way dad was changing his mind.

David remained quiet and kept eating, though he did shoot dad a look that showed he disagreed with him. Mother kept talking to dad as he put on his coat and shoes. I followed David's lead and kept silent. There was no point in arguing anymore. It would only make things worse.

My parents were overprotective. They took matters about me into their own hands and made it ten times worse for everyone involved.

Not to mention how controlling they were. I didn't like it. One would think after living with these people for 14 years that you would get used to it, but that simply wasn't the case.

My family was very unpredictable. When something happened that was a family issue, they wouldn't always have the best solution.

I hated my life.

* * *

**2 Years Later, 2003, Summer**

I had my own way to distract myself from problems at home. I'd enjoy wandering away to be by myself to enjoy the peace and quiet. Once, Sam let me go through his family's old stuff. What that really meant what I had permission to go through all of his dad's stuff and take whatever interested me since it did nothing but gather dust.

I found some old hard drives in the collection of unused technology, and brought it home with me. One by one, I peeked through each hard drive to see if I'd find anything interesting, but I was disappointed by each result. Except one. I couldn't get into it, and I figured that the password meant that something valuable was on it.

I liked computers, but I was an amateur with code. I wrote up a very basic brute force password attack program. It would run on an infinite loop of password attempts until one broke through. I had to leave the program running for 4 months until it finally got through. What I found was incredible.

It was the source code for a hacking program called CLU. I managed to make a copy onto my computer, then I began to change and modify it. I wanted to try and create something that operated as an intelligent help tool, like a personal assistant. One could argue that it bordered on artificial intelligence, but I kept my goals low for very basic and reasonable commands, like searching for something within a computer, setting up reminders, or running a calendar.

If someone really wanted to, they could modify that code to set up a program that, if capable of running with the internet, could automatically search for recent news articles without a person lifting a finger. Something could be designed for a set of tasks to be carried out at certain scheduled times if the program knows how to perform the tasks. The possibilities were endless.

To my frustration, I went wrong in a few ways that was difficult to fix with the program I was working on, so I scrapped it and started the project over again. Part of the issue had been my difficulty in the type of code I was working with was written in 7090 machine code, which I was even less proficient at writing, much less understanding. It was hard for most to understand, which made me feel a little better at least. The next time, I wrote a lot of the code lines myself with copied and pasted lines from CLU's source code. "Copypasta," I joked to myself.

It was a very time consuming project though. That took me another small handful of months to complete.

In the end, I was able to program an assistant that was capable of learning on its own, and it had the ability to hack if necessary. I could hack into my own computer with that program if I wanted to. It was a very user-friendly helping tool, and it was the first real program I wrote that could do more than some basic functions. This one could do more complex tasks. Its behavior was stable and balanced so there was less of a chance of it going rogue.

I named it GUS - short for Guidance Utility System - and saved it on a flash drive. I'd never felt more proud, and I couldn't have done it without my uncle's help.

I looked at the old hard drive thoughtfully. It was definitely dated, but it was obviously put into storage long before Kevin Flynn disappeared.

It simply begged the question. If my genius uncle was able to make such an intelligent program back in the early 80s, what other things did he secretly put together later on? Could it be something even more advanced and complex than CLU?

* * *

**1 Week Later**

The service industry was the most thankless type of work I could think of next to slavery and indentured servitude. Nevertheless, I enjoyed working in a small diner in downtown Los Angeles. Not just because it provided me a way out of the home for a while, but because I also wanted to save up my own money for college and emergencies.

But mostly getting out of the house because of how chaotic and toxic it was. If my parents weren't trying to micromanage me, I could hear them screaming at each other in the kitchen. Sometimes it could escalate to a real fight. There were a few times the neighbors called 911 because both of my parents were attacking - no, _abusing _\- each other on those occasions.

My mother was really good at getting in my dad's head, and it drove him crazy. That would cause him to strike out at her physically in retaliation. There was no stopping that, so I found ways to avoid that chaos. A job was one of the better ways to stay out of trouble. I dealt with enough of it on a daily basis.

I grabbed a rag and wiped off the empty tables. Surprisingly this one night, the place was empty. I was the only person scheduled for a graveyard shift. My manager went out shortly for her lunch break.

It felt sort of creepy that time of night. I felt a prickling sensation on the back of my neck. I felt watched, and I turned around. No one was there. I shook my head and exhaled through my nose as I resumed my work. I moved on to the counters and wiped it down with my rag. I thought I heard something behind me, but I ignored it. I was just jittery. Just paranoia-

I felt a hand on the back of my head and my forehead smacked the counter. Then I was on the floor, dazed. My head was ringing and the lights felt too bright then.

Okay, that was _not_ my imagination.

I groaned and was about to bring my hand to the tender spot on my head when a big, strong hand wrapped around my wrist and pulled me to my feet. I blinked rapidly. My vision swam in front of me and nausea gripped my stomach from feeling so disoriented. The hand wrapped around my wrist squeezed me painfully tight in warning not to mess around.

Something cold and hard pressed against my temple and I froze. That wasn't what I think it was, was it?

I heard something click. Yep, a gun.

I let out a gasp when my sight got a little better. The guy holding the gun had cold brown eyes and a dark mocha complexion. He was tall and had a ton of lean muscle - his exposed skin looked almost pale for a black man. And he looked scary.

He wasn't alone, either. "Seriously? Just hit her again and help me!" I heard another man snap.

Scary dude chuckled. "I'm sure you have it all under control," he replied to his pal and kept me at gunpoint. He looked like he enjoyed looking at my face when I was focused on the gun.

Why did this have to happen to me?

I stifled a small noise when the scary man pulled the gun away from my temple, gripped my chin, and turned my head to look at him directly. I couldn't see either of their faces – they were wearing ski masks. Go figure.

"Hey there," his lips curled into a little smirk and his eyelids relaxed and lowered - it made him look more sly. He tapped me on the nose. "You're quite a little cutie, aren't you? Why don't you be a good girl and turn around for me?" His hands lowered to his belt.

My heart skipped a couple beats and my mouth felt like chalk. I swallowed nervously before I turned away from him and lowered my head. I heard him tug his belt off and my chest felt constricted with fear. He snapped his belt once, then twice, to mentally torment me and I flinched in response. I tried really hard not to make a sound because I was worried it would cost my life. He grabbed my wrists and tugged them behind me before his belt encircled them three times, then he secured the pin into the nearest notch. He sighed as he gently caressed his hands around my wrists, "Better."

Goosebumps broke out in my upper arms and the back of my neck. I would rather have dealt with gruff and rude shouts over this. At least it wouldn't feel as unpredictable as this behavior. I was very afraid of what they'd do to me when they were finished ransacking the place. A part of me would half expect a bullet to the head, but I was very worried then about being kept around longer for torture.

"So," Robber number two hauled up the loot. "What do you wanna do with her? I don't think you'd find any use of her."

The first guy laughed. "I was thinking of something. We could drag her into an alley and shoot her-"

If I had heart problems, I would've died right there.

"-But I was thinking of keeping her for a little while…"

I couldn't help but laugh hoarsely, despite my dangerous situation. "Seriously, man? That's so unoriginal. You just assaulted me and then robbed my workplace." My speech was slurred but I knew they could still understand okay.

I'm guessing someone who walked by the place saw what was going on a couple minutes ago because right after I finished that sentence, I heard sirens wailing.

"Shit!" Second robber cursed. "Come on, man, let's go. Just leave her."

Scary man shoved me into a table and I hit my head again. I crumpled to the ground. Thanks a lot. "I'll see you again," he smirked at me.

They snuck out the backdoor. The police arrived at the front. I stayed still on the ground when the police entered and surveyed the state of the diner, guns out. They looked at me. "Are you alright?" I nodded. "Do you know where they went?"

"Back door," I mumbled, at least I think I did. They looked confused at first, but then headed to the back door. I was pretty sure my speech was messed up. "Batter," I slurred at them again.

"We've got one victim that needs to get looked at," one of the officers spoke into his walkie. A paramedic entered the building for a basic assessment while the officer took pictures of where I was laid out on the ground. After the belt was removed from my wrists, it was bagged as evidence and taken away. I rubbed my sore wrists and frowned at the impressions left on my skin from the belt.

I hoped those wouldn't bruise. I didn't really want reminders of what happened.

A flashlight was shined in my eyes while I tried to answer questions about who I was, what my birthday was, where my address was, etcetera. I didn't remember the answers at that time, which was terrifying, but thankfully I remembered the phone number to my house. The police found my wallet and driver's license during their investigation so they were able to find answers that way.

After the initial evaluation of my health, the paramedic sat me up and helped me stand to bring me outside. I lost my balance for a moment as I stood, but caught myself.

The medic noticed though. "Are you feeling dizzy or nauseous at all?" He asked.

I nodded. "My head sort of hurts." Just for a moment I had double-vision. I started, but quickly calmed down. Everything was sort of wobbly and I thought I saw stars on the medic's face. "They hit my head a couple times."

"Your eyes are glassy." He put his flashlight away. "I think you have a concussion, but you'll need a doctor to make sure."

There were a couple of bystanders not far away on the sidewalks, I could see my boss speaking with an officer, and an ambulance was parked a few paces away. Its emergency lights shined everywhere - round and round, almost hypnotic. I shook my head. "I'm fine," I whispered.

"We at least need to check you," The paramedic told me as I was helped onto a gurney sitting right outside the vehicle. "I'm going to take your blood pressure, okay?"

One of the officers came back with a notepad and pencil. "I have to ask a few questions regarding the crime that took place."

I furrowed my eyebrows and nodded. I wasn't sure how much help I'd be.

"Do you recall any distinguishing features of the perpetrators?" I blinked and stared at the floor. I knew something…I knew…

I shook my head. "My head hurts." I mumbled.

"Head injury; maybe a concussion," The paramedic said to the officer. Then he looked at me. "How hard did you hit your head?"

"Hit it twice," I slurred. "Hard enough to make me see stars."

Everything looked as if I was crossing my eyes but I don't think I was doing that. Weird. My vision cleared up a few moments later. Damn, my head hurt like Hercules smashed it with a sledgehammer. Not fun.

"Okay, we're going to call your parents and take you to the hospital." And then the paramedic maneuvered me into lying down and lifted up the side rails while his partner grabbed a blanket for me.

I shook my head in protest. "I really need to work though," I argued as they prepared to lift me into the ambulance.

The officer placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "It's safe to say you're eligible for worker's compensation. You'll still get paid, don't worry."

They didn't know the real reason for my disappointment wasn't worry over earning less money. It was that I didn't want to be at home for longer than I could already stand.

"I don't want to go," I continued to protest as they strapped me down on the gurney after I was tucked under the blanket. One of them inserted an IV in my wrist. Cold fluid seeped into my arm and I gave the paramedic a dumbfounded look.

I was given an apologetic smile back. "We're sorry, but you're a minor and you have a head injury. Only your parents can reject medical care, but you really do need to be evaluated." With that, the doors shut behind me and I was taken to the nearest hospital.

Since the robbery incident, I was still looking over my shoulder. I couldn't quite remember the guys that hit my head and robbed the place, but I remembered the scary guy's last statement.

'_I'll see you again.'_ That wasn't creepy at all.

* * *

**2 Weeks Later…**

My night shift started a bit early, so I got to finish early. It was still dark when I headed to the bus stop. Oh well, only so many safety measures could be made and carried through realistically. I was never left by myself in the workplace anymore for any amount of time, especially at night. There was nothing my boss could be held responsible for when it came to my routes to and from work.

I felt weird though - my neck felt prickly and a shiver went down my back. I felt very uneasy. I looked around and saw a few people going about their business. But someone looked like they were tailing me.

It was so dark I couldn't see the face, but I walked a little faster.

That person sped up a little too.

Of all the people in Los Angeles, why did I have to be the person to stalk? I wasn't letting this creep know where I lived. I broke into a run and turned a few unfamiliar corners. I decided to take a long detour so I could shake him off before heading home.

But the person was so persistent… and fast. It seemed apparent that person could run much faster than me for a longer period of time.

After finally getting out of sight from darting around a few more corners, I ducked into a dark alley. I immediately regretted it because it smelled like day-old piss. Unfortunately, that wasn't the only putrid stench. There were other unidentifiable smells that I didn't want to know about.

Worst of all, there was no other way out. This was a problem.

Whoever was following me started walking past the alley I was hiding in. And then the person stopped.

My heart was hammering in my throat. I could feel my pulse in the back of my head. My eyes were wide and my pupils dilated.

It was terrifying.

Whoever was following me was much closer than earlier and I could tell by the body structure that it was a man.

Slowly, very slowly, he turned toward the alley.

Could he see me?

I involuntarily let out a gasp.

"There you are." He took one step toward me.

I screamed.

It wasn't a startled type of scream, no, I was screaming bloody murder.

He took easy strides toward me but suddenly stopped when I heard a car approach. I knew he could see who it was, because he quickly backed out of the alley and scurried away.

A police officer stepped out of his cruiser and approached the alley I was hiding in.

He pulled out a flashlight and shined it at me. I held out my hand to shade my eyes; I was still shaking in fear. He took a tentative step towards me. "Are you okay, Miss?"

* * *

**2 Weeks Later, Junior Year, 2003, Fall Semester**

I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. It was unnerving, but I wasn't sure what to do about it. Whenever I voiced my concerns, I was merely instructed to call the police when I needed them, and it was left at that.

There was one other time last week that I caught a man - who I presumed was the same person as before - following me from work again. It took a few tries, but I was able to shake him off by myself eventually. I didn't believe I was any safer in public than I was alone at my workplace. Thankfully my boss no longer gave me solo shifts late at night.

Ginger tried to distract me from all of my concerns by suggesting the two of us, plus Kristophen, go out partying on a Friday night.

"Come on, it'll be fun! We'll get to dress up, go to bars, flirt with older men to see if they'll buy us drinks…"

I raise an eyebrow, "That sounds like playing with fire. Besides, we're underage. I'm 16, and there's no way I'll pass for anything older - maybe for you and Kristophen, yes, but not me."

"We'll get you a really good fake ID. We already have ours; I know a guy who's gifted at forgery. And," she smiled knowingly at me. "Makeup is really good for altering appearances. I know a thing or two, and I could make you look like one hot lady!"

Oh well. If I'm arrested, I'll blame Ginger, and I made sure she knew it.

It turned out the bar she had in mind was shady from the start, so our fake IDs weren't really scrutinized before they were handed back. The bouncer barely even looked at us before we were let in. The boom of music blasting through speakers and the smell of cheap beer permeated the atmosphere, and we all made a beeline for the bar.

Ginger could tell I felt nervous and out of place, so while Kristophen wandered off to find his own entertainment, she elected to stay with me so I'd be more comfortable.

That only lasted until two guys approached both of us - one was white and the other had a darker complexion. They both offered to buy us drinks, then asked where we were from and what we were doing here.

The white guy - he introduced himself as Edward - seemed to take a liking to spunky Ginger, who was talking about something that must have been riveting.

Edward's friend introduced himself as Riley, and he seemed more focused on me. I wasn't as good at holding a conversation with a stranger like Ginger could, and I found myself cringing internally whenever I allowed us to lapse into an awkward pause. Then Riley would ask another question about me to keep things going.

He was odd though; whenever I asked about his life, he'd give me a vague answer and then redirect the conversation back to me. As time passed and I had more drinks, it bothered me less and I became happy to tell him more about my life.

I told him about my missing uncle and the hole it left in my family, about my parents and their non-stop fighting, about my brother who I became more alienated from over the years, the stress of my schoolwork and planning for my future, and even the fear I felt from the mysterious man that would stalk me after work.

"That sounds bad. Have the police offered protection?"

"They won't do anything; they say they can't do anything," I complained over my tequila sunrise before I took another gulp. My head was starting to feel fuzzy and I knew I was getting tipsy. I'd better go find Ginger soon. We planned a sleepover at her house and as far as my parents were concerned, that's where I was. There weren't any clocks shown, but I knew it was starting to get really late.

Riley seemed to sense that I was getting antsy. "Want another?"

"Uh…" I shouldn't. I knew I really shouldn't. I looked around, but couldn't find Kristophen, or Ginger, or Edward. Where was everyone?

I eventually shrugged and said, "Sure," but I hoped that Ginger wasn't getting into a bad situation. I also hoped that Kristophen didn't ditch us either.

What if they both ditched me?

I banished the thought from my head before it could cause any panic. I knew them for a handful of months, and they didn't seem like the type to leave me with a stranger I barely knew.

I finally spotted Ginger; she came toward us from the crowded dance floor, and she had Edward in tow. She ordered a shot of vodka while he asked for a Guinness. I leaned over and whispered that I was ready to go soon and was starting to feel tired. I then realized I wasn't whispering very quietly, and my face flushed in embarrassment. I didn't want to make Riley feel like I wasn't having a good time. He really was fun to talk to.

When I tried to apologize, he only smiled like he heard something funny and said it was okay. He asked if we could exchange phone numbers, and I gave him my mobile number as I put him into my contact list. He said he hoped to see more of me in the future, and then he and Edward took off for the night. They both work weekends.

Apparently Ginger designated Kristophen as the designated driver when we went out, so he was the one driving her car while the two of us giggled like children all the way back. Upon reaching her house, Kristophen and Ginger helped themselves to some of her parent's liquor while I opted to go to bed. I didn't feel like drinking anymore, and I knew I was in for a hangover the next day.

* * *

**1 Week Later**

Riley was 21, but I didn't care. My parents would never know about him if I had anything to say about it. Riley was perfectly happy to keep things low-key with me. It was just a harmless friendship, after all. Admittedly I was pretty disorganized - I hadn't remembered how much of my guts I spilled to him when we were at the bar a week ago.

I liked him though. He was very polite and had a way with words. He always asked how I was doing and how I was feeling, he always held the door open for me, and sometimes when we hung out together, he'd let me drink a little. He also challenged me by getting me out of my comfort zone. He did that often.

We'd go for thrilling rides on his motorcycle, explore abandoned buildings, and he even convinced me to try karaoke once, even though I was very shy and didn't like to sing.

And he talked often about how beautiful he thought I was. I'd never been so flattered by someone before. I was used to criticism from my mother or mean girls at school who would subtly point out my flaws. I knew I didn't exactly fit in with today's standards of beauty.

I didn't have a flat stomach or straight hair, my face was more rounded than oval, I was short and a little chubby, and I had a flat chest. Ginger was the only other person who cared enough to tell me that my pouty lips and "two wonderful globes" that was my butt were very attractive.

That only helped a little though. Barbie doll bodies seemed to be the thing now, and Ginger fit the ideal image of a pretty teenage girl. It was easy for her to talk about confidence, but she didn't really understand that people would tell me that I "must not be eating right" or I "wasn't working out enough."

Granted, I knew I wasn't done with puberty yet, but it didn't mitigate the hard time I was having with myself and others. It felt like all of those issues melted away around Riley though. He always told me what I needed to hear before I even knew I needed to hear it.

After another week passed, he asked me if I was interested in dating. Recklessly, I told him yes.

* * *

**1 Month Later**

Before long, Riley saw me more often than I saw my friends. I didn't care though. Spending time with him meant getting out of the house and doing something other than school or work. That mattered a lot to me.

I got a reality check though when Kristophen called me and said that Ginger was in the hospital. Apparently she had spent a lot of time with Edward, but it got cut short when she had a "diabetic emergency." Kristophen didn't really have a lot of information other than that and told me I should meet him there to make sure she was okay.

It took me longer than I liked to get there but once I did, Kristophen found me and showed me to the waiting room closest to Ginger's room.

"Is she okay?" I couldn't keep the worry out of my voice.

Kristophen shrugged, "All the nurses told me was that she's not in a coma, so that's good."

We waited for at least two hours before we got to see her. A nurse came into the waiting room. "Little Suzy Navarro."

Kristophen tapped my leg and stood up. I followed his lead as we acquired our name tags and walked through the maze of halls until the nurse slid open a door and gestured we could go inside. I claimed one uncomfortable chair on one side of Ginger's bed and Kristophen took the other.

Then we were left alone.

"So… Ginger's name isn't Ginger?" I ask him.

"She doesn't exactly feel like her legal name matches her personality," Kristophen shakes his head. "She won't change it though, she sees it as disrespectful to her parents."

"Damn straight," Ginger interjected, but didn't open her eyes. I flinched, startled. I thought she was sleeping.

Kristophen didn't think she was funny though. "I thought you check your blood sugar often. What happened?"

Ginger opened her eyes and she looked a little guilty. "I guess I was drinking irresponsibly. Empty calories made my blood sugar spike and then plummet. I didn't catch things in time, and," she shrugged. "It caused a seizure. I should be out soon though. My glucose levels are stabilizing."

"Please don't let that happen again. I was worried sick."

I felt awkward, like I was intruding on something private between the two of them. When was the last time I hung out with them both? I must have missed out on something, because it felt like Kristophen and Ginger were a lot closer than I remembered them being.

* * *

**2 Days Later**

Life at home got harder as time went on. David was never around - he was always out with his friends, and I thought I had begun to smell traces of weed off him. My parents fought more and more; mother would wear high-necked clothing and long sleeves to hide the bruises and my father spent more time away as a workaholic and drank in excess between everything. He did a lot to be around mom less. She drove him crazy.

In turn, I spent more time away from the house too. If mom couldn't find dad to pester, then she'd go after David or me next. Everyone had excuses to avoid these incidences. I was barely home anymore except for meals and sleep by that point. I spent the rest of my time at school, at Ginger's house, or with Riley.

Riley was pretty cool to be around. He had an edgy haircut with most of his head shaved except for a strip of short hair that resembled a mohawk of sorts. It suited him. He was also very fit, which was necessary for his job as someone who worked in a steel mill and did a lot of heavy lifting. He lived a simple life and enjoyed it that way.

I admired his motorcycle too. I had a thing for those, I thought they were awesome and would make me wonder if my cousin Sam or uncle Kevin got the same adrenaline rushes every time they got to ride their bikes.

Kristophen once told me that he didn't like the vibe he got off Riley and told me to be careful. He even got heavy-handed in his opinion when he told me I shouldn't spend as much time around him. Personally, I thought he was being ridiculous and chalked it up to jealousy because my time spent with Riley meant less time around him and Ginger.

The only thing I would watch out for is making sure we weren't busted by local authorities about the unusual relationship between Riley and me. A part of me felt bad about the significant age difference, especially since he could get into legal trouble about it, but a part of me also worried about being shamed by others because they wouldn't understand.

Besides, Riley didn't know how old I was. The night I met him and had some drinks, I think I only mentioned I was in school, but didn't specify if that was high school or college. Either way, he didn't seem to care.

He was more focused on making sure no harm was coming to me from my family. He'd pick me up from school on the days I didn't work, and bring me to a local park or the library to hang out while I did homework. After that, he'd sometimes bring me back to his apartment and we would spend hours there cuddling, watching television, eating food he'd cook for me, or drink. It surprised me at first with how often Riley would provide alcohol, but I wouldn't think too much of it. Who was I to turn it down if he was offering?

Sometimes I would get inexplicably tired at his place shortly after eating or drinking something, and he had a place for me to lay down whenever that happened. He told me my classes must have been getting more challenging for me to feel so exhausted, and I couldn't help but agree with him.

I felt disoriented and a little disheveled upon waking, but Riley would explain that I tossed and turned a lot. I guess that explained why my clothes felt so misaligned or not quite in place all the time.

I really enjoyed spending time with him. He was solid, warm, and strong and it made him feel like a protector whenever I wasn't around Kristophen. Maybe it was partly because Riley was romancing me, but I had begun to prefer his company over everyone else's.

I saw my friends even less and before I knew it, I was only at home half the time. One quarter was between Ginger's and school, and the other quarter was at Riley's.

He once asked if I was interested in trying to sleep at night with less layers on, rationalizing that it might be more comfortable. I was reluctant, but realized quickly that less layers was more comfortable. Then we started sharing the same bed when I slept over under the pretense of being at Ginger's. Sometimes he would get a bit handsy, and stroke my body in questionable ways that I felt it bordered between innocent and sexual intent. I told him my concerns and he listened to me the whole time. Then he reassured me that my worries were all in my head and I had nothing to worry about.

Despite the fact he was someone with obvious needs and desires, he never pushed me for sex, which I was grateful for. He always made me feel comfortable and validated. He told me that we could consider doing something more further down the road.

There was only one incident that I got very angry with him.

We had a disagreement about Ginger and Kristophen, whom it turned out he was wary of. I wouldn't stop arguing how he was wrong about them and he ought to consider trying to alter his perspective. Then he crossed a line and criticized Ginger's sexuality because she was bisexual. I lashed back and said that only half-wits would cast people aside based on a two-dimensional analysis rather than look at them in context.

He slapped me.

He struck me hard enough to knock me down to the cheap, off-white tile of his apartment floor. In that split second, I'd never seen him with such a cold, calloused look in his eyes. Such hatred was so new. My head rang and I felt like I was in my freshman year fight and my workplace robbery all over again. Tears came to my eyes unbidden, and I flushed in humiliation.

I wasn't sure why I was crying. I didn't feel sad so much as betrayed in that moment; it hurt though. I wasn't sure why I felt embarrassed to look so weak in front of him.

I felt his strong hands grip my shoulders in a surprisingly gentle way, and his thumbs ran soothingly over me. "Shh, shh," he whispered in my ear. "I'm sorry, come here." Riley pulled my curled form into his lap, despite my half-hearted resistance, and rubbed his hands up and down my arms to comfort me. Then he kissed the cheek he hit.

I stared silently at the wall in front of me while I melted in his embrace and wondered why so many things didn't make sense.

* * *

**The Next Day**

"What the hell happened to you?" Ginger's eyes went wide as saucers when she saw my bruised cheek.

"I don't want to talk about it," I replied gruffly as I walked in. I bought a box of hair dye on my way over and I felt like changing up my looks a bit. I've since reached a point where I've gotten sick of my family, sick of school, sick of my job, sick of my relationship, and I missed my friends.

At the same time, I oddly couldn't get Riley out of my head and I wondered what that was about. I should've felt blisteringly angry at him, but for some reason I didn't feel capable of that. I still harbored feelings of attraction towards him.

I shook the thoughts from my head so I could focus on my task at hand. I removed my glasses and placed them on Ginger's dresser, then she draped a towel around my shoulders as she prepped my blonde locks with a pre-treatment serum. She told me it could help protect my hair from chemical damage.

A few minutes later, she mixed the dye with hair lotion in an application bottle, donned the protective gloves, and got to work.

I didn't want anything too extreme like black, pink, or green, but I wanted something different, and I settled on what the box called bordeaux red. Not too vibrant to be obviously fake or draw unusual attention, but it didn't look like I was trying to pose as a natural redhead either.

I knew that Ginger knew there was a lot going unsaid between us, but I wanted it that way. I didn't want her to worry more than she already was. She had enough to deal with.

I felt like I was losing my mind though. That's why I knew I had to leave.

Not long after I returned home from Ginger's, I packed a bag and ran away. I didn't last very long; it was a pathetic amount of time. I was declared missing for three days before an officer found me and brought me home. I suspect someone recognized me and sent the police an anonymous tip about me. I pouted and fumed in the back seat the entire way.

I got a heavy lecture from David and my parents when I returned home. Ginger hugged me in a death grip and cried when she saw me; Kristophen said nothing, though. He fixed me with an unreadable gaze and I saw a muscle tick in his jaw.

I was afraid of Riley's reaction the next time he saw me. He pretended nothing odd or bad happened - which I wasn't sure how to feel about - yet at the same time, it felt like he had begun to make more of his presence felt around me. In fact, he pushed even harder to spend more time with me.

I felt drained, exhausted, and uncertain about myself. I began to grow desperate for something to cling onto so I felt like I was grasping reality better. The most available person most of the time was Riley, and I felt like he wasn't being much help either.

I didn't know what to do. I felt like I was slowly going crazy. In all of these weeks, I still could sense a mysterious person stalking me, but I wasn't any closer to figuring out who it was, and the police were still no help.

For the first time ever, I realized that this was what it was like to be truly afraid for my life and my sanity.

* * *

**2 Weeks Later**

I went straight to Ginger's house after school. It was a Friday night, and we planned to spend it at a warehouse party we heard about from Edward. The plan was to prepare at her house, and then we would drive in her car to meet the guys there.

My best friend used the opportunity to doll me up in ways I wouldn't have done on a normal day. But it wasn't a normal day. She straightened my wine colored hair with a flatiron, applied eyeliner, dark eye shadow, and mascara to my eyes, and completed it with blood red lipstick. I had a natural blush in my cheeks and a nice pale complexion otherwise, so I told her that foundation and blush wasn't necessary.

I rolled tights up my legs to help protect myself from the occasional chills that gave away fall's arrival. Most trees had since shed all their leaves. I borrowed a red and black corset dress that belonged to Ginger with an uneven hemline, but what was awesome about the dress was the hidden pockets. I used that opportunity to pocket my flash drive containing GUS so her dog wouldn't try to chew on it again while we're away. Plus I could brag about it to Riley later after enough drinks.

I put on a pair of white crew socks that peeked over my black combat boots and after Ginger gave me a thick, soft black scarf as a wrap, my look was completed. I looked at my reflection and I could barely recognize myself. I looked badass, elegant, and rebellious at the same time.

I looked more powerful than I really felt inside. It was all I could do to smile at the work Ginger put into my makeover instead of wilt. She really did make me look pretty.

When we arrived at the warehouse in downtown Los Angeles, no one greeted us and we had to push our way through the crowd while we looked for our friends until we heard music start up. I glanced at the stage and my jaw dropped, then I elbowed Ginger to direct her attention there too.

Edward was playing drums, Riley was on electric guitar while Kristophen sang "Welcome to the Jungle." There were a few other men and women on instruments up there as well.

I had never seen such admiration on Ginger's face like that before, and I knew she wasn't looking at Edward. I smirked at her from the side. I hoped she'd figure out soon that Kristophen had strong feelings for her - I knew she had a crush on him too. It just wasn't my place to meddle since I was friends with both of them.

When the song was done, we all grabbed a drink together. Edward managed to convince me to try whiskey, which tasted like ass. I almost threw up when I choked down the shot, which made everyone laugh. Needless to say, I didn't like the drink.

Then I sampled more vodka, beer, wine, rum, and tequila shots - I didn't like those either. I think I preferred social drinking that involved more diluted alcohol. I eventually requested a vodka and sprite and sipped at that occasionally.

Unfortunately, I hadn't been keeping very good track of my drinking that night, and I had begun to feel the effects of the alcohol. Riley got up and announced he'd take me out for fresh air; I looked like I needed it. He found a door on the side of the building that led out to an alleyway and propped it open a crack so we wouldn't be locked out.

He led me further into a darker part of the alley before I was pinned against the wall. I opened my mouth to ask what he was doing, but then his lips covered mine in a rough, passionate kiss. He shuddered against me and pressed us harder against the rough brick wall.

I turned my head to the side to break the kiss. "What are you doing?" I slurred at him as he kissed down my neck.

"Shh," he responded as he ran his hands up my arms to my shoulders. I lifted my hands to nudge him away and then he gripped my wrists to pin them against the wall too.

"Hey, stop," I protested, but the alcohol made me weak and unfocused. I was so confused. What was Riley doing?

Then he became more hostile. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked it so I was forced to look up at him. Then he kissed me again with a groan. I gasped and he took the opportunity to shove his tongue into my mouth.

I began to panic and made more noise than he liked because the next thing I knew, I had a gun pointed at me.

"Stop," Riley said sternly. "If you cooperate, I won't hurt you."

It was a handgun, the same one I recognized from when my workplace was robbed. All the pieces of the puzzle came together when I saw it, and he knew that I knew everything by then.

He leaned toward me again until his nose brushed my hair, and then he inhaled deeply. "You're mine," he growled as his fingers tightened their grip on my strands. "There's no getting away this time."

The warehouse door suddenly opened and I saw Kristophen and Ginger. They saw the predicament I got myself in with Riley very quickly.

Kristophen ducked into the darkness quickly, just before Ginger shouted to get Riley's attention. "Hey!"

As Riley turned to point his gun at her, Kristophen jumped out in a blind spot and decked him. The 21-year-old fell over with a thud. I stumbled away from him and the wall as I tried not to hyperventilate. What the hell was happening around me?

"Run, Paradis!" Ginger shouted as she helped Kristophen hold Riley down. I didn't need to be told twice. I turned tail and ran from the alley. I ran blindly without stopping for what felt like forever. We were in a sleepy part of LA where there weren't a lot of people out, so I couldn't ask for help.

But even if there were people, I would have been too scared to ask them. So I kept running. I ran until I was completely winded and countless blocks away from Riley and that alleyway.

I heard sirens in the distance, and I grew afraid for many reasons. I was a minor who had been drinking underage, but I was also out by myself with no one to protect me in the off chance that Riley broke free to chase after me. He had a gun, after all.

I turned a corner and stopped. Across the street was my uncle's old arcade, _Flynn's_. The sirens grew louder and I had to make a quick decision.

I ran - more like stumbled - across the street, plucked a pin from my hair, and picked the lock.

I heard a click to signal it was unlocked, the door squealed as I let myself in and then slammed it shut.

Then I just needed to wait out the drama.

* * *

**TLDR: This first chapter is an origin story for my protagonist, Paradis Flynn. A bunch of stuff is messed up in her life, made her a pretty messed up person, and she got into some messed up situations. Shit goes down in close proximity to her lost uncle's arcade, so she decides to break in and hide out there. It matters because the PTSD she gets from everything affects her for the rest of her life. It also affects how she processes everything (which she isn't as of now, so that means she's still out of touch with reality), her thoughts and feelings get affected as well. She can't run on adrenaline forever. Like in every Tron story, we'll soon see how human Users are.**

**GRID STUFF IS NEXT CHAPTER! We won't have to worry about pesky real world stuff for a long time after that. ;)**

**I probably won't post long chapters like this one again. If I do, it likely won't be that often, I'm afraid. This first book might go quickly. Likely 20 chapters or less. I'm pretty anxious about this story since its original conception was at the same time as my other Tron story. And I'll be honest here, the original draft for this book was absolutely horrid. The entire first half (at least 7-10 chapters) would have taken place in the real world for a pointless backstory. So... the hardest part about pumping out this first chapter was the condensing of those many chapters into just this one chapter. I'd say I did okay, and that's mostly because of the help and support from very special friends of mine. The rest of that old draft - the second half with all the Grid content - was scrapped and is being rewritten as I go along. I might extend the Grid stuff in this book. Who knows, Uprising is next, and then Legacy, but nearly all the content plot-wise in this story is original.**

**My boyfriend is operating as my Beta reader; he helped me clean up the first half of this chapter and made it look very pretty. The second half of this chapter was better because more of that was scrapped and rewritten too.**


	2. Illume

**Chapter 2 – Illume**

I crouched in a corner far away from the door, next to the TRON arcade game. I'd been curled up here for at least an hour now, and I felt myself grow fatigued. I leaned heavily against the game, which caused it to shift and move. I looked down and saw scuff marks in a particular pattern.

This game had been moved a lot in a very specific way. Curiosity sparked in me, and I pushed the game aside to find a door behind it. A secret door.

Even if I didn't find a treasure trove of my uncle's work, this made a great hiding place if I was tracked here. I quickly opened the second door and let the arcade game slide back in place behind me. Only a clever person would be able to find me.

A little bit of light from street lamps outside somehow made its way into the staircase area, which I was grateful for. I didn't want to move around blindly and accidently hurt myself or damage something. I descended the steps and my eyes widened at the set of doors.

They were covered with warning signs like: "DO NOT ENTER," or "AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY." I glanced at the keys that dangled from the slot. The door's unlocked. Nobody would assume I went here, right?

As long as I didn't disrupt all of the dust too much.

I gripped the sides of the handle between the pads of my fingers as I gingerly pushed it downward. It opened with a _crunch_ and the door creaked as it opened. I entered the space and pushed the door closed behind me, then I faced forward again to evaluate my surroundings.

It was not what I expected. My uncle had a secret lair underneath his arcade. By the state of the futon couch, the messy blanket that lay atop it, and the abundant items scattered across a coffee table's surface, I deduced that my uncle spent a lot of time here. But the excessive amount of dust and the musty air told me this place hadn't been touched in years either.

The room felt all the more eerie with the two facts in mind. From this vantage point, it was like Kevin Flynn vanished into thin air.

Against the wall under the window was a desk, and a paper map tacked to the wall was titled: _The Grid_. I wondered if it meant the same thing as what I heard from Sam - the bedtime stories.

"A digital frontier" he mentioned to the press years ago. I began to wonder at this point if he was talking about an open-world game. I approached the desk and swiped a hand across its surface. It lit up to reveal a keyboard and text box. I couldn't believe it. This computer was running since the last time my uncle touched it. All I remembered from the timer before it disappeared was 13 years.

He touched this computer 13 years ago before he disappeared. The realization finally dawned on me that this probably wasn't discovered by investigators after his disappearance. Could I be tampering with evidence?

I then decided that the computer likely had nothing to do with his disappearance, though could have been present during a key point in the timeline about his vanishment. I could dig through - heck, maybe I could find something useful to present to authorities. Or I could release his lost products and ideas to the world so not everything he did was in vain.

It wanted me to log in.

"Shit."

I tried typing in backdoor to see if I could get around, but it didn't do me any good. I was out of my element here; I didn't understand Linux operating systems very well, and it looked like that was what the computer had. Then I got an idea.

I dug around in the dress's pocket for my flash drive. "Alright GUS," I muttered. "Don't let me down. Find a way to let me in." I plugged in the flash drive.

I at least knew how to force an upload of my program into the computer. Once that happened, it would sign in for me - theoretically, I would be signed in as my uncle.

Then I watched the password type itself in: 3V0LUT10N. Evolution? I wondered why he picked that of all things. It wasn't what I expected, so maybe that was the point. I didn't dwell too much on it.

Once I was signed in, I looked up his history and squinted at one of the lines listed. "Laser control?" I typed in an exact copy of the lines of text I saw, and then I heard mechanical whirrs start up from the computer. It startled me.

I yelped and stumbled into the chair by my legs. It clattered to the floor on its side. I stared at it as I attempted to regain my breath and calm down again. I set it right in front desk again and then sat down in it. "Screw you too," I muttered back to the computer. Then I saw the new query box that was open.

**Aperture Clear?**

**[Yes] [****No]**

I was still recovering from my brief surprise and was distracted by my curiosity that I was barely mindful of the soft, rhythmic beeps from behind me. I thought about the question for a moment, and then shrugged. I wanted to see what would happen.

I pressed the Y key

Then I heard more whirrs behind me, and I suddenly felt pins and needles over every inch of my body. It lasted only a few seconds before it was gone again.

But the atmosphere felt different. I looked around me in shock. Was I in some vivid dream or hallucination caused by binge drinking and PTSD? I preferred that explanation over the horrible sinking feeling that this was real. The entire room was different. The lighting was different. There was no dust. No futon couch. No blanket draped haphazardly over it. No coffee table. No knick knacks or stale snacks scattered around either. The room was bare.

I glanced toward the window and suddenly flood lights poured through into the room. I felt compelled to move away and get out. My flash drive was not there anymore. I didn't think too much about it. I exited the oddly clean room that disturbingly resembled my uncle's secret office.

I stopped fast upon exiting the room. There weren't any stairs to climb to get to the main receiving room. I was already there. Here, the office was directly attached through a neighboring door on ground level. "What the hell?" I squeaked.

I bolted through the main doors and turned in a slow circle as I looked around on the street. "No, no…" I didn't know where the hell I was, but it wasn't Los Angeles.

Parts of the freaking buildings around me were glowing! The street lamps were no longer a soft goldenrod, but a sharper, cleaner white. Gosh, some of the architecture of the buildings too were very bizarre and unrealistic. What was this dream I was stuck in? I pinched my arm.

A floodlight suddenly shone down on me, and I shaded my eyes as I gazed up. There was a terrifying machine flying through the air from above that looked a lot like a fancier version of the enemy vehicles in _Space Paranoids_.

Wait. Was I in a video game?

I quickly decided that, yes, I was in a video game and needed to not get killed. I turned and bolted down a random street. To my horror, it followed - not that I should have expected anything different. I spotted a narrow street that it wouldn't be able to fit through and turned the corner.

It moved upwards to continue its pursuit of me. I felt my hope of escape slowly begin to crumble. I needed to get away. I didn't want to chance dying for real if this wasn't some kind of simulation.

A hand reached out from the darkness and grabbed my hand to pull me into a hidden nook. I yanked my wrist back after, and did a double take at what was crouched in the shadows with me.

It was a person that looked like me, except he was male. He wore what looked like a black spandex unitard with glowing white lights running up and down the suit. There were some dark honey-colored yellow lights too, like secondary circuits. Fascinating; I wonder if they mean anything.

He looked over my outfit and appearance - especially my glasses, with equal parts perplexion and criticism. "You look very out of place," he judged. Then he peeked outside. "That recognizer's still hovering around this sector. We may have to wait them out."

"Uh, who are you?"

"Oh, I'm Gus," the blond-haired man smiled at me. Even his blue eyes looked just like mine.

I blinked. "You're Gus? As in the program I wrote?"

"Wait. You're my User?" He looked me up and down again, and then looked over himself. He sat down. "This is confusing. What did you do to me?"

"I don't know, I based you off another program written by my uncle. I inserted some of its source code into you, made it part of you. Maybe that's why you feel odd?" I shrugged and sat down next to him.

"I'm supposed to look just like you."

I froze and made eye contact with him. "Well, this is awkward."

"That's the least of our concerns," he sighed. "If you're a User, then we need to get you off the Grid. You don't belong here. It's dangerous for you."

"Yeah," I gestured outside. "I noticed."

He peeked outside again. "We need to get you somewhere safe. Abby will know what to do."

"Who?" I ask. Gus hadn't been inside the computer for very long, yet he still met a program that he already trusted? Did time pass differently here, or what? I groaned. "I have so many questions."

"Abby might answer them better than me," he answered.

"You're supposed to be a helping tool," I reminded him.

He lifted an eyebrow at that statement and I cringed when I reminded myself the very program I wrote looked human. And what was more, he seemed to have independent thoughts and feelings as well. "I haven't had the chance to learn every scrap of information yet," he reminded me. "Although your command to look up the history was very helpful."

"Okay," I backed up and tried a different way to obtain information. "Where am I?"

"You're on the Grid, a digital utopia created by Flynn and run by Clu 2 as the system administrator. Right now, we're in the limits of Tron city, but we need to get to the border by the Outlands if we want to meet up with Abby."

Flynn? "Wait, do you mean my uncle, Kevin Flynn?" I asked Gus.

He looked at me, mouth agape for a moment before he shook his head and groaned. "This isn't good. They'll come after you for sure. There's no way he'll let you go if he finds out."

Wait, what? Who? Why? What was he talking about? What kind of messed up world was this?

This program, my program, had begun to frustrate me a little from the poor communication between us. He either needed to learn more, or I made a mistake somewhere with his code. I forced myself to calm down. Getting angry wouldn't help the situation. "Fine. Take me to Abby, please."

Gus nodded once and turned to look back outside. "They're deploying sentries on the streets," he stood and helped me to my feet. "We need to move."

We kept our heads low and scurried away from our small hideout. We dashed in short sprints between hiding spots; he ran first and hid while I hurried to his previous spot. We'd wait a moment before he moved to the next point, and moved to his recently vacated spot. We repeated that for a long time until he told me that we cleared the sector and it should be better now.

Then he moved a hand toward his outer thigh. Like magic, a fancy stick appeared in his hand and he pulled the ends apart. It split in half and glowing yellow light poured out from the inner sides of both halves. Light traced an outline of a motorcycle resting between Gus's legs. More light filled in the image and it somehow became a solid, real vehicle in front of me.

"Get on," he sat down on the bike. Parts of it glowed white against the stark black body.

"How did you do that?" I approached it slowly.

"It's not going to bite you. Get on. We need to leave sooner than later."

"Is there a helmet?" I asked him.

"Uhh, nope." A black mask with white lines on it suddenly morphed over his entire head. He tapped the side of it with two fingers once, then twice.

"Look, I need a helmet or I'm not getting on that death machine."

"Yeah, I got it. Hold on." Gus reached out that hand and swiped it through the air sideways and downward. A screen appeared in front of him. He pressed a few buttons displayed and typed in a few things on a keyboard.

I heard a click, the screen suddenly disappeared, and a helmet identical to his appeared in his hands. That was amazing. This world blew my mind.

He gave it to me, and I carefully slid the helmet over my head. I had to take off my glasses in order to do so. I gripped them tightly. I could not lose them. I wouldn't get far otherwise. I climbed behind him and wrapped my arms around him like a boa constrictor. I promised I would never go out to parties again, or date older men, or run away from home, or eat any more junk food, or drink underage. That was if I survived. He revved the engine as he took off. I shrieked and held on for dear life.

His speedometer showed we were going almost two hundred miles per hour. I thought we were going to die. I screamed to pull over, stop, let me off, anything so I could feel safer and more secure again. I'd take my chances running from the strange floating vehicles, thank you.

"We're almost there," Gus reassured me.

"I'm going to be sick," I wasn't really, but I hoped it would be enough to get him to stop.

He hummed. "What does that mean?"

"It means to pull over now!"

"We're almost there," he parroted his earlier statement. So much for a chance of stopping.

Finally, finally, we slowed to a stop. The bike disintegrated under us as he put the stick back together and I stumbled away from him. "I feel like it's kidnapping at this point." I stuttered to him as I tugged off my helmet and dropped it. I put my glasses back on. "I told you to stop and you kept going."

Gus whirled around to face me. He fixed me with a stern look. "I hate to break it to you, User, but Abby and I might be your best chance out of here. You'll need us to help you blend in."

I hated to admit he was right. We stood in awkward silence and I twiddled my thumbs. We were outside a random, inconspicuous warehouse, and I was putting off going in.

"How much?"

"What?" What did he mean?

"How much of that other source code did you use besides your own designs?"

"A little…" He gave me a look. "Okay, I plagiarized a lot of code from the original CLU program when I made you."

He looked scandalized. "I wish you didn't tell me _that_ much."

Whatever, I had a lot on my mind that I was concerned about. Never mind his feelings about where he came from and how.

He led me inside the warehouse and I followed warily. I had no reason not to believe this was a trap, but my only other option was to run. I didn't want to do that though if I truly could get help from Abby. He did what I guessed was a secret knock before he let himself in, and I peeked in after him.

The warehouse was a decent size, sparely lit, and even looked a little lived in. As I glanced around, my eyes eventually settled on a lone figure dressed in white, who stood in front of three holographic screens with crossed arms.

Gus nudged me with a shoulder. "I don't want to stress you out at all, but it's important for you to know you're on the clock here."

What? I followed him in with questions buzzing through my head at a million miles per hour. The person already in the warehouse must have picked up more than one set of footsteps, because the program turned around quickly and grabbed for the disk secured in its holder. It came to life with a threatening buzz and Gus acted quickly. "Whoa, hold up, Abby! This is Flynn's niece, she needs our help." He held out his hands in a nonthreatening way to coax her into putting her weapon away. I knew my best option was also to look unthreatening, so I mirrored what Gus did.

She sized me up immediately and I felt defensive because of her critical gaze. She looked like she was already judging me, and I hadn't even introduced myself yet. Abby turned to Gus, "You know the rules, nobody else is supposed to know this place or where we are. Bringing a User here… you could have compromised everything if the guards came after her."

"She's my User," Gus explained quietly and it gave her pause.

She looked at me again, then she pointed at Gus. "What kind of programmer are you?"

I felt my cheeks flush.

Gus jumped to my defense again. "Look, leave her alone - and I look _fine_. I have to escort my User to the Portal before it closes. We need your help."

I suddenly felt queasy and Abby sighed, "Fine." Then my stomach lurched and the alcohol I binged earlier tonight was emptied from my stomach all over the warehouse floor. She openly glared at me. "Good job, you've left evidence of your existence all over this place now."

She made a show of walking around the putrid mess I made as she approached me. How the hell could she even walk in those heels she was wearing? I would only privately admit how hot she looked in that white suit. She was still a bitch though.

Abby gripped my upper arm surprisingly gently as she guided me to a more secluded section in the warehouse. I hastily wiped my mouth with a sleeve as I followed. "So, do all female programs wear white?" I asked her.

She seemed to think a while about my question before she answered. "It seems you've arrived very recently - by accident, I'm guessing - and you're unsure of how things work in general." A straightforward and blunt assessment, but I nodded anyway.

Very suddenly, she stopped and made me stand still in a particular area. Then a small segment of the floor lit up around my feet and restraints locked over them to hold me in place. Surprise and anger rolled over me. "Hey!"

Abby held up her pointer finger and it lit up with a sharp _hiss_. The female program tilted her head as she analyzed me more. "I'll start you off slow and easy with your Grid 101 lessons. I'm Abigale, I'm a program with hacking abilities, and I'm going to put you in an outfit to help you blend in better." She used her weird finger-tool to slice up my clothes like scissors on tissue paper. I protested, blushed, and tried to cover up my naked body in the handful of seconds before a stretchy, comfortable black fabric of _some_ kind spread from my feet up over my body to cover everything from the neck down. A unitard not unlike what I've seen on Gus and Abby. Little glovelettes were part of the suit and left my dainty fingers sticking out. I suddenly found myself wearing heels as well.

"I'm not wearing heels," I protested to Abby.

"Deal with it," she replied carelessly. "Lots of females do unless they're a medic, mechanic, or foot-soldier. You know, the hard-working, laborious functions.

"I can't run in them. Furthermore, they cause damage to people like shortened calf muscles and Achilles tendons. It can also lead to low-back pain, so no thanks."

Abby sighed. "Brat," she muttered to herself.

I clenched my jaw as I fought not to show her any reaction. Abby trotted back and forth in her heels like it was nothing as she opened up screens around me similar to what Gus did when he made me an extra helmet. I wasn't released from my restraints yet. I crossed my arms as I simply waited. After a few minutes of fiddling with a screen close to me, the heels disappeared and I was wearing level footwear. I could even feel support for my arches.

I guess they didn't skimp with orthotics on the Grid.

"Most programs don't wear armor unless they're in or from the coliseum," Abby explained. "But I think we should give you some to help protect you." Abby tapped a button on her screen. "I can't do that until you've got circuits on you."

She strode back over to me and held up her pointer again. "Don't panic. Don't move. Don't get weirded out. I'm not going to hurt anything." With that, her finger laser started again and she traced it over my chest, my back, my waist, my butt, my shoulders, down my arms, and my legs. I tried not to fidget in discomfort. I wasn't used to being touched, and this was downright weird.

To my amazement, bright white light lines appeared in the wake of her touch and my suit began to look more like Gus's and Abby's. "Can all programs do that?" My amazement was evident in my voice as I asked.

Abby paused. "Right now, I'm doing something that's a little beyond what Sirens do when preparing programs for coliseum games."

"A Siren?" And a coliseum? What the hell was this place? A digital Roman Empire?

It's a good thing Rome didn't have _Space Paranoids_ ships flying around in their time. That would've been awful. Unfortunately for me, that was precisely my situation.

"Sirens are guides or outfitters, officially, under Clu. But they are also known for doing a lot of other things on the side," she shrugged. "Sirens are always female, and they dress in white. I am not one, of course, even though I chose to look like one and am currently filling the role right now." Abby rolled her eyes like I was such an inconvenience - which I guess I was, but it wouldn't kill her to be a bit nicer. I was here by accident. I didn't mean to.

As if she could read my mind, Abby softened a little bit. "Okay, the truth is I'm technically an enemy of the state. I've been dressed as a Siren since the moment I was created, but now I call myself one in short because nobody asks questions."

I realized that Gus was hanging out on the sidelines when I heard him laugh. "Has led to quite a few awkward incidences for you sometimes, hasn't it?" I couldn't see him and I guessed he couldn't see me either. Good. I would've felt embarrassed if they didn't somehow accomodate for privacy.

She turned away from me to work on one of her screens and I took a moment to admire her hair. It was flaxen blonde in color, and pulled back in a ponytail with a glowing white clip with bangs and longer strands in the front to frame her face. Her suit hugged her mature body in all the right ways, and I felt a mix of admiration and envy.

I knew she was a program and not a real person, but what were my chances of getting nice curves and an athletic body like that once I was out of my teenage years? Perhaps she looked that way because she was a program and could alter her appearance if she wanted to.

Out of all her physical attributes, what fascinated and unnerved me the most was her glowing yellowish amber eyes. They didn't feel human at all, like they could gaze right into my soul.

"Now," Abby interrupted my thoughts and turned around. "Let's get you some armor and a disk so we can get this show on the road." Panels opened up on the nearest wall and she retrieved a few small items. Then one by one, she pressed them up against my body. The pieces then clasped onto my suit and then somehow morphed into a larger part of my outfit, which wasn't what I expected.

Not even a minute later, my very soft spandex black suit was still comfortable on the inside, and felt rubbery but flexible on the outside. As I observed it, I realized there weren't any seams, buttons, snaps, or zippers.

"Wait, what if I need to use the bathroom?"

Abby looked at me, perplexed for a second, then she burst out laughing. "You won't need to."

Then a small podium popped up from the floor and it held a black disk that looked just like Gus's. Abby picked up the disk and stepped behind me. Then she spoke. "I want your attention. You are about to receive an identity disk. Everything you do or learn will be imprinted on this disk. If you lose your disk or fail to follow commands, you risk imminent deresolution."

Okay? I wasn't sure what that meant, but I guess the first rule was to make sure my disk was safe at all times.

With that, Abby docked the disk on my back, and I felt a quick, electric jolt run through my body for a few seconds before everything settled again. I blinked in perplexion. That was weird.

"Mirroring complete. Disc activated and synchronized," Abby stated. "You're ready."

Then she took off my glasses. "Wait, I need those!" I protested.

Abby lifted an eyebrow. "Nobody wears these. You'll stick out like a sore thumb."

"I can't see five feet in front of me without them."

She sighed before a glint appeared in one of her eyes. She grabbed my disk and opened its settings. I watched in fascination as she fiddled with the screen and somehow adjusted my sight to 20/20 vision. Then she tossed the glasses aside.

"Okay," Abby started as the restraints on my feet finally deactivated. "It's important to notify you that the Portal, which is your only way to leave this place, can only stay open for a full millicycle - about eight hours, in your case."

I walked around to get a feel for my new outfit. My boots or shoes or whatever they were felt very shock-absorbing. That was good; I had a feeling this journey would be high-impact. "There's a time limit?" I stepped outside and the two programs followed. I pointed at a single lone star by the horizon. "Is that it?"

"Yes, that's where we need to get you in… probably closer to seven hours now," Gus answered.

"We'd better get a move on," Abby added as she pulled out two sticks and tossed one to me. "Do you know how to ride one of these?" I shook my head and she sighed, "Okay, baby steps."

I was taught how to make my own mask activate and deactivate at will. Riding lessons were really tricky at first, but the controls were basic and I got the hang of it quickly. It wasn't too different from any other motorcycle, but these were souped up and could go much, much faster.

I was also shown how "pockets" work with the suits, which was really cool. My last lesson before we left our safe haven was basic combat training and how to handle different weapons: an identity disk, light sword, light staff, grenades, and the light ribbon that came from my bike.

Once Abby was satisfied I understood the weapons and mastered them well enough after the crash course, she ordered us to rez our bikes and follow her.

"Why is the Grid so unfriendly?" I asked both programs during the drive.

"Programs were written to be competitive," Abby answered simply. "But some things have changed too. After Clu seized control, the Grid became less User-friendly in general. Nobody really has faith in your kind anymore. Unfortunately, what this also means is Clu is now aware that someone new is here. He'll likely make it harder to reach the portal."

"I could just explain that I'm his creator's niece. He'd understand an honest mistake on my part, right? It's not like anyone will believe me if I try to talk about a digital world, so who am I going to tell?" I protested.

Abby sighed, "That's not the point. This is about power, and he's malicious about your kind too. He took matters into his own hands a long time ago, declared all Users corrupted because of how their flaws make them imperfect. Your kind does, after all, have a trend of diverting from original plans and policies. If Clu gets a hold of you, he'll try to use you to draw out your uncle, Kevin Flynn. Or worse, he could torture and kill you."

That sent a chill down my back. "Wait. My uncle's here?"

"Hiding, but yes. Nobody knows where he is. Clu's the reason he never got to leave and if you're not careful, it will happen to you too."

"Wait, 'me'? What about your guys? I thought you were helping me," I took some deep breaths to stay calm. I wouldn't make it on my own. I knew that. I needed help.

"We'll do our best to help you, as we promised," Abby reassured me. "You don't know the stakes and circumstances like we do."

"And what about my uncle? We need to find him and help him get home."

"He can bolt around whenever he wants to. Flynn's a wise man; whatever he does will be a careful and well thought out decision."

"You say that as if I'm not doing that," I couldn't keep the suspicion out of my voice.

"You've only been here for a couple of pectrocycles at best. You don't really know much about the Grid. Now your uncle, he's the maker. It means that no one knows the Grid better than him." Abby got me there. By this point we were back inside the city limits. I was told it would be okay now because the curfew is over. Sure enough, there were other programs milling about the streets. "We're going to make a stop at the End of Line Club before we leave the city, the program Zuse will know the best way to get to the portal."

"I thought you guys knew."

"We can't know everything," Abby sounded exasperated. "Information and secrets is a part of Zuse's trade, and he has a hand deep in it. He's our best shot at planning an efficient route without detection."

Okay, whatever. "Where's the club?"

"At the heart of Tron city - in fact, it's the tallest building here."

Before I knew it, we had arrived. I collapsed my bike back into the baton and put it away in one of my "pockets." Those were so cool; lots of storage space. I craned my neck as I looked up, eyes wide, "Now that is a tall building."

Abby turned to Gus and me and lowered her voice to whisper while we walked. I didn't make eye contact with anyone around us. "We need to make this a quick in and out. We don't have time to waste. There'll likely be undercover sentries inside the club to look for anything out of the ordinary, so it's important for you to blend in as much as possible. All I want to do is ask Zuse about the possible routes we can take and how patrols look."

I looked at the entrance we walked towards and my heart jumped in my throat. "Wait, is that a glass elevator? I'm scared of heights."

Abby rolled her eyes. "Have fun babysitting her, Gus," she quipped as we entered the box of doom, and she pushed a button. The doors closed behind us and I held onto Gus's arm tightly as I refrained from looking out the window during the ascension.

* * *

**Sorry for irregular posting. It would seem there's more attention and demand on my Knights of Ren story as of now, but I don't mind juggling two stories for a bit. I appreciate everyone's patience. These past several months have been particularly hard for me.**

**Constructive criticism is always welcome. Until next time, cheers!**


End file.
